


Snowflakes and Stars

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Godric's Hollow, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, M/M, Malfoy Manor, Snow, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: When snow falls in Albus's hair it looks like a galaxy of stars, and Scorpius loves to try and find the constellations.





	Snowflakes and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Emancipare wrote some amazing tags on [this beautiful piece of art](http://ohscorbus.tumblr.com/post/167132326010/usagiscloset-look-the-boys-are-friends-and-soon), by [@usagiscloset](http://usagiscloset.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

Albus sits cross-legged on the frozen ground, picking at the grass that’s creeping up through the cracks in the pavement. He’s staring across at the house on the other side of the road, watching the light that’s shining out from the gap between Harry’s curtains. They’re closed at the moment, as the sun sets and dusk gathers, but Albus doesn’t seem to care. Maybe he’s fixated on the idea of his dad, on his presence anywhere nearby them. If he can’t have his adult dad, it must be comforting to have the younger version somewhere nearby at least.

Scorpius is leaning against the wall beside him, gazing down at him, trying to work out what’s going on in his head without actually asking. Asking would be a disturbance, then Albus would look up at him, would lose his train of thought, wouldn’t be lost in his own little world anymore, and it’s the lost Albus that Scorpius loves; is intrigued by. Scorpius wishes he could get lost with Albus, could know the secret places he goes in his head when he’s thinking.

The snow is gathering in Albus’s hair as it falls, soft white flakes that sit there among the curls, like a galaxy of stars among the black.

There are constellations there, studded among the messy strands. He can pick out Orion, somewhere near Albus’s forehead, and Aries, and Canis Major, and Scorpius is just by Albus’s left ear. And right down near where Albus’s hair meets his neck, Scorpius spots Draco, and his heart constricts.

He clenches his hands into fists and takes a breath, squeezing his eyes tight shut to try and stop the tears from falling. It’s so cold here, it’s so dark, and they have no idea if their message has worked, if Harry’s seen it, and all Scorpius wants is his dad, in a way he never has before, not even in that other world. It’s a desperate need just to see him and talk to him and tell him that he loves him, because Scorpius hasn’t had that chance, not since he realised that that was what he wanted most in the world to say.

He opens his eyes and blinks several times, then goes back to staring at Albus’s hair, because if there’s one thing that can distract him and make him feel better then it’s Albus.

He focuses on trying to pick out more constellations. Leo, Andromeda, Cassiopeia. The urge to reach out and trace the shapes through Albus’s hair is overwhelming, but that would make the snowflakes melt, it would disturb Albus from his thoughts, and Scorpius doesn’t know if Albus wants to be disturbed like that, by him. The snowflakes might melt under his touch, but Albus wouldn’t.

Scorpius tucks his hands into his pockets to restrain himself, and looks away, across at some of the pumpkins that are gathered at the end of a garden path across the street from them. All crooked smiles and flickering candlelight, cheerful and hopeful and bright. If only things were that hopeful...

When Scorpius looks away from them and back down at Albus he discovers that Albus is staring up at him, green eyes almost black in the twilight.

“If they don’t come,” Albus says. “I just-“

“They will come,” Scorpius says, injecting as much confidence as he can into his voice.

Albus nods. “But just say they don’t... What you said earlier... About companions... If I had to be lost in time with anyone I _am_ quite glad it’s you.”

Scorpius feels his heart lift and he smiles. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

Albus nods and bows his head. “I thought you should know.”

“You’ve got snow in your hair,” Scorpius says, because he doesn’t know what to say instead. He reaches out and traces Draco, then he brushes all the snow out of Albus’s hair, sweeping aside the galaxy because he doesn’t need it. Not when Albus is here.

*

Albus is sitting on the back steps of Malfoy Manor, trying to catch snowflakes on his gloved hand, when Scorpius arrives with the hot chocolate.

“You know, we wouldn’t actually need a hot drink if you didn’t insist on sitting outside,” he says, setting the mugs down by the door and glaring at Albus.

Albus smiles. “You were the one who said you wanted to watch the snow fall.”

“From inside the house.”

“I thought you liked the snowflakes?” Albus says. “I thought you liked seeing how different they all are? You can’t do that inside the house.”

“I also can’t get hypothermia inside the house,” Scorpius says, and Albus laughs.

“Stop being dramatic and sit down.”

Scorpius is about to flump down next to him, when he realises that there’s snow collecting in Albus’s hair, just like it had all those years ago in Godric’s Hollow. The flakes are forming constellations, a whole universe, all collected here, just for him. All the most beautiful and secret things about Albus are just for him now, and there’s nothing he loves more than that.

He reaches out, unashamed, and traces his own constellation across Albus’s scalp, melting the snow, and making Albus shiver.

“What are you doing?” He asks, glancing up at Scorpius.

“The snowflakes,” he says. “They make constellations in your hair. Like you’re the sky, and they’re your galaxy.”

Albus snorts. “That’s very poetic, but it also tickles.”

Scorpius traces another constellation, and Albus laughs and pulls away from him.

“Scorpius!”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Scorpius says. “The snow in your hair. I remember how it looked in Godric’s Hollow. It made you look soft.”

“And you weren’t weird about it then, if I remember rightly.”

“I didn’t want to make the snowflakes melt,” Scorpius says.

“But you don’t care about that now?” Albus asks, smiling up at him.

Scorpius looks down at him. “I know I can make you melt too now.”

“Oh really?” Albus asks, with a ‘try me’ glint in his eyes.

Scorpius brushes his fingers through Albus’s hair, sweeping aside the snowflakes because he doesn’t need the galaxy, not when Albus is there. Then he leans down, crouching on the step, and kisses Albus as soft and slow as snowfall.

Albus makes a quiet, happy mumbling sound, and gathers Scorpius in, so Scorpius falls off balance and lands on top of him on the step. Albus wraps both arms round him and they stay there, half lying on the stairs, wrapped up in each other, warm and soft and together, as the snow falls around them, scattering the ground and their hair with a whole universe that’s only for the two of them. Nothing else exists, just Scorpius and Albus and the snow and the stars, and under Scorpius’s touch, Albus finally melts, sure as snowflakes.


End file.
